What he fooled himself now into believing to be his motive when he did tear himself from that fatal parting of the ways and hurried down towards the shop, was his unwillingness to be landed for lunch with Urquhart. “I’ll catch him about two,” he thought. “That’s the lowest pulse of the day! And I’ll get home to tea and make it up with Gerda at the highest pulse of the day!”

An instinctive desire to avoid setting eyes on Mr. Malakite led him to go straight to the side-door. What was his surprise when he found that little postern wide open! There was the narrow flight of stairs leading straight up to Christie’s room!

This time he did not hesitate. Stick in one hand, manuscript in the other, he ran up those stairs. There was Christie’s door, also wide open! He entered and called her name, softly and tenderly. No answer! He passed through the alcove into her bedroom. The cold grey light lay upon her counterpane like the first light of the morning upon a smoothed-out winding-sheet.